


Skyfall

by niazkilam (jongleur)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friendship, M/M, Multi, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 10:53:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/912353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jongleur/pseuds/niazkilam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>…or the Unholy Trinity ‘verse. In which Zayn, Louis, and Harry are the rich popular bastards known as the Unholy Trinity. Niall and Liam are the bullied geeks who, for some reason, fall in love with the baddest motherfucker, Zayn. Louis and Harry rediscover themselves, or maybe they had always known. Still, these five boys want nothing more than a skyfall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Skyfall

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, this isn't the one shot I promised. Sorry. This is the first chapter of five plus an epilogue, I don't think it will be long; I haven't written more chapters so I guess it'll be a bit before I post the second chapter, I'll try to post it in two week's time, yes? There's a one sided pairing in the story. Anyway, enjoy? Title of the story from Skyfall by Adele.

 

****

****_let the sky fall_  
when it crumbles  
we will stand tall  
face it all together  
at skyfall

~

Liam has read about people wanting to stop being invisible all the time. As a loud crack echoes through the almost deserted hallway just as Liam’s head collides with the cold locker, he knows those people don’t know what they’re talking about. Snickers and loud cackles are getting fainter as Liam still rests his head on the locker, eyes closed.  He sighs twice before getting a hold of his fallen backpack.

The eighteen year old quickly grabs his chemistry book and then proceeds to trot towards class, knowing that, if the deserted hallway is anything to go by, he’s running late.

This has been the second time that day that Liam is late to a class thanks to those annoying loud hunks from the football team. He huffs in annoyance and thinks of a few curse words which he obviously doesn’t say out loud because he is Liam Payne; Liam Payne never curses (or, well, maybe a tiny word or two have escaped his mouth whenever he’s up against Niall in a mean game of Scrabble, but that’s it).

Either way, Liam opens the door to the classroom just as the bell rings, which only earns him a half hearted glare from Mr. Trancy, his chemistry teacher, who practically adores little respectful Liam.  
  
The brown haired boy takes his seat on the second row, next to a chewing gum blond.

“What took you so long?” the blond loudly whispers as Mr. Trancy busies himself with roll call.

Liam shrugs, “Why do you think?”

“Ugh, fuck them, mate.” the other boy says, cursing, because he curses as much as Liam doesn’t. _Not cursing is simply unnatural, Liam, so I curse enough for the both of us, to keep things balanced in the universe. In fact, you should thank me!_ Niall had said once.

“Well, I’m here. I wasn’t even late so…” Liam says turning to the teacher as he gets out a pencil.

“Still. By the way, I was—”

“Horan Niall.”

“Present!”

“—I _was_ wondering if you wanted to—“

“Mr. Horan, throw that gum you’re chewing away, please.” Mr. Trancy says, not even giving a second glance towards the teenager.

Niall stands up from his seat and walks towards the bin at the front of the class, not noticing Michael Torres’ feet slide in front of him. Liam winces as his friend trips and a chorus of laughter erupts from the class.

Niall, too used to the action, only grimaces and goes back to his seat, not even bothered at the lack of reaction from Mr. Trancy.

 _Of course, love Liam but ignore lazy Niall, sure._ Niall rolls his eyes.

“Anyway, I was wondering if you’d like to go to the Glasses with me today.” Niall resumes, just as if nothing has happened. And, giving Niall’s carefree nature and too used to his peers’ taunts and mockery, it’s probably true.

Liam frowns in confusion, “But it’s Thursday, it’s a school night.”

“Yeah, well, tell that to Mason.” Niall replies easily and turns around, knowing Liam will go with him as his friend sighs.

Mr. Trancy resumes with yesterday’s lesson, but Liam barely pays attention, he knows this like the back of his hand. The boy pouts and regrets ever making that silly promise to Niall about a year ago.

It’s no secret that Niall and Liam are the most unpopular boys at Stonewood Academy; everyone knows it and go on their petty way on avoiding them.

Stonewood has a very simple hierarchy: if you are on a scholarship, you are automatically a loser.

Both Niall and Liam are on scholarships, which makes them _nerds and poor_ , at least by Stonewood’s standards.  
  
It certainly doesn’t help both boys are out and proud. Niall just doesn’t care if people know who he finds attractive or not, he’s gay and he’s not ashamed.  Liam, although a bit more reserved and self conscious, decided that, what the heck, he was already at the bottom of the heap, adding ‘gay’ to the list of reasons jocks gave him swirlies wasn’t going to change that.

It was just how things work at their so called prestigious school.

Only the ones that are either filthy rich, or stupidly beautiful got to rule the school.

And then there are the three boys who are beyond filthy rich and stupidly beautiful; the three who are unofficial royalty, the Unholy Trinity.

Louis Tomlinson, Harry Styles, and Zayn Malik.

The three seniors who wiped their asses with money and had every single girl drooling and crawling for them.

While Zayn and Louis have their reputation of making the wildest parties with more than enough booze and weed (even cops known to make appearances from time to time), Harry is known more as the womanizer, the one who slept with all the girls.

Liam doesn’t hold a grudge against them (but really, when does he ever hold a grudge against anyone) and neither does Niall (but really, when does Niall ever give a shit) because they know the Trinity doesn’t even know they _exist_ , so really, why blame them for their unpopularity?  Sometimes they joke that they are too ‘hideous’ to be touched by the Trinity, much less be invited to one of their parties.

In fact, neither Liam nor Niall have ever been to one of the parties organized by the popular crowd; three years, now seniors, and still not one party.

That doesn’t mean they’re strangers to parties or clubs; the two boys had relished on the fact that they were both out, and well, teenage boys and _why not?_

Niall, on their third year, had made Liam promise they would go out to a gay club, The Pink Sunglasses,  whenever their popular peers made parties. To not miss any of the fun, Niall had said, to live while we’re young!

Liam had agreed and right now he doesn’t know why.

Still, if he is glad of anything in his life, it would be that he met Niall Horan.

The slightly older boy is like rays on sunshine in Liam’s life: always smiling and having an outlook on life that amazed Liam. Some would say their nice and happy personalities would eventually clash, but they had been friends for three years already and Liam was still to be tired of Niall and viceversa.

They are best friends and that is that.

Liam sighs in contempt, still not paying any attention to his chemistry teacher, and thinks that yes, he would very much rather go to the Glasses with Niall instead of going to a trashy party with those popular silly boys.

At the very back of the classroom, almost just at the opposite side from where Liam and Niall are sitting, two popular silly boys are also talking about a party that night and not paying attention to Mr. Trancy.

“Zayn, mate, are you coming to Mason’s party tonight?”a boy with blue eyes and high cheekbones mumbles, not caring if their teacher hears him.

The boy next to him, who sports a tall dark quiff and droopy eyes, slowly turns around to face his friend.

“Which party? It’s a Thursday.” Zayn replies, an eyebrow raised.

“Well, Mason’s stupid…but his parties are awesome. So, are you in Zayney boy?”

Zayn visibly hesitates for a moment, “Nah, Louis, made plans already.”

Louis’ eyes widen and he dramatically gasps, “What do you mean?! You made plans without me? _Again_?”

Zayn rolls his eyes and chews on his pink lips, “Lou, don’t be so co-dependent, Jesus. Besides, you’ll have more fun at Mason’s than where I’m going.”

“Where you goin’?”

“Somewhere. A party. It’s not your scene.”

“Not my scene? _Not my scene_? Everywhere is my scene, all scenes are mine, Malik.”

“You’re not going.” Zayn deadpans and Louis pouts.

“Well, who’ gonna go with me then?”

“Ask Harry, he’ll go.”

“Harry doesn’t like parties.”

“But if you ask him, he’ll go.”

“He’ll go, but he doesn’t like parties…too nice for his own good.”

“Don’t know why he’s friends with you then.” Zayn smirks.

“Don’t know why he even breaths near you.” Louis scoffs.

“Touché.”

“Mr. Tomlinson, am I going to have to give you detention or are you going to stop talking?” Mr. Trancy glares at Louis without so much as a glance to Zayn.

“What about Zayn?!” Louis gives an indignant squeak as he scrunches his eyebrows at the teacher.

“I’m talking to you Tomlinson, _not_ Mr. Malik.”

“Ugh, whatever, I don’t even like you.” Louis scoffs, not even flinching as Zayn discretely pinches his side.

“Ok then, detention.”

“Figures.”

The blue eyed boy sighs and promptly ignores his friend as Zayn shakes his head.

“Dammit, Lou.”

It wasn’t even that big of a deal, he got detention like, all the time.

“And for the record Mr. Tomlinson, I don’t even like you either.”

x

Liam’s mum is way too nice. Like _way_ too nice.

Who even lets their son go clubbing on a Thursday night? He always has known that he takes after her, but is _he_ really this nice? He hopes not. He is.

He thinks his family might have serious problems.

She had even offered to drive them to the club herself. Of course Niall had instantly declined…nicely. (No thanks Karen, I think we can manage. We love you. I think I might love you more than Li loves you.)

Liam sometimes thinks that might be true.

It isn’t that Liam isn’t grateful, no, he is, but he just wants to know how it feels to be said ‘no’ to once in a while.

Liam almost hits himself. Is he really thinking about his mum while being in a club? Ok, yeah, definitely no.

He takes a sip from his coke (Liam drinks as much as he curses…the same can be said about Niall) as he sits on one of the stools by the bar, eyeing the crowd.

Most are young men a couple of years older than himself, none are particularly good looking, but a few do catch his eye.

It isn’t like Liam is in this perpetual state of looking for the love of his life, it’s just…he sort of is.

Liam is a boy that wears his heart on his sleeve; every cute guy (note: not necessarily gay) bloke is a potential boyfriend and thus, a potential husband and father of his children.

Niall thinks it’s a bit creepy.

For the blond, on the other hand, every hot bloke is a potential laid, or at least, a good snog.

At the end, the result is a couple of heartbreaks that last under two weeks (Liam) and satisfaction and a happy dick (Niall.)

Either way, both boys always come back to The Pink Sunglasses; it’s a nice place as far as gay clubs in Manchester go. Not to mention, people actually _like_ Niall and Liam there. They are friends with all of the bartenders and almost all of the usual goers: counting all of Niall’s hookups and Liam’s three ex-boyfriends and two drunken kisses (a fact Liam says to ashamed of, but Niall swears he sees a glint of smugness whenever it’s brought up).

It’s a nice change from school all shoving and pushing around at school.

Liam catches a glance of a blond head bobbing up and down in the middle of the crowd, and, with one last gulp at his almost finished coke, heads towards the dance floor.

x

Niall is a good dancer.

Or, well, he’s good at what he considers dancing, which is actually just jumping around while he flails his arms. Once in a while he likes to shake his bum erratically too.

Yes, he’s a good dancer.

Right now he’s bouncing on his tiptoes, following the beat of the music and trying to move away from a guy who is unsuccessfully trying to grope him. He grins as he sees Liam trying to get where he is, which is a difficult task in itself seeing the blond is right in the middle of the dance floor. He tries to close the gap between them; Liam dancing his way through.

Liam is a great dancer if Niall does say so himself. Like, proper dancing,

The gap closes and suddenly both boys are no less than an inch apart.

The music is still loud, the beats are still overwhelming. They once again, let their bodies go numb, moving and sweating the melodies through their skin.

Their dancing contrasts so loudly under the neon lights, and yet, they slowly become one.

Mere feet away from the boys, in between warm sticky bodies, dances a lone boy with a raven quiff. Everybody tries to dance with the gorgeous boy, but only go as far as to grope him before he grows bored and moves on.

At that moment, neither the lone boy nor the dancing boys know of each other’s presence. It’s also a probability that neither of them care enough about the other. Probably.

As the tanned boy, blinded by the music, gets a hold on Niall’s waist, they softly grind, following the techno music.

That could’ve been that, if it wasn’t for the fact that the two boys attend the same school.

Blue eyes lock with fierce brown ones.

Niall’s mouth opens just a tiny bit, focusing on the face right in front of him. His eyes widen as realization hits him cold.

It’s Zayn Malik.

Zayn, the most popular boy, most beautiful, richest, straightest (or not…?) boy from his school, is grinding on him. In a fucking twink club. _What the fuck?_

The blond Irishman turns his head rapidly to face Liam’s reaction. He wasn’t it imagining it, was he?

From the look on his friend’s face, he wasn’t. But why was one third of the Unholy Trinity here? In a gay club?!

He looks back at Zayn, and from the looks of it, the brown eyed boy doesn’t seem to recognize him— either of them— probably why he danced with Niall in the first place. Also, it seems as if now Zayn expects him to say something, seeing as he suddenly stopped dancing.

But he can’t. He doesn’t know what to say. It’s obvious Zayn doesn’t recognize him, what _is_ he supposed to say?

“Liam, let’s go.” He tugs at Liam’s sleeve.

His friend follows him wordlessly.

The last thing he sees before being swarmed by a dancing crowd is a perfectly trimmed raise eyebrow.

_Perfectly trimmed eyebrow?_

He should’ve guessed.

“C’mon, Liam, I need a drink.”

x

The music is a bit loud, the thumping of the beats reverberate through Zayn’s chest. It’s a bit heavy, the beat, he might actually say it hurts because it’s so loud, but Zayn. Zayn loves it.

Zayn loves the sticky bodies clinging to him, everybody grabbing him everywhere. He supposes he’s accustomed to this, everybody always wants him. This time is different though, this time it’s not carnivorous teenagers looking for a fake friendship, this time it’s not girls with fake boobs wanting his dick, this time it’s not his father binding him to his unwanted business. This time, it’s boys and men wanting to dance with him, wanting their bodies to flow together with the deafening music, it’s still superficial, it’s still superfluous, Zayn knows, but in a way both (or multiple) parties know that everyone knows that’s all it is. No lies, no pretenses, and Zayn loves that as much as the aching beats.

He scans the crowd full of men, some attractive, some not as much, still, no one on the dance floor as beautiful as Zayn is. He dances with everyone, at least for a couple of minutes.

His brown gaze finds a blond blur of hair; it’s jumping uncontrollably and furiously to the beat. A pale patch of milky skin, the man’s neck, just below. He’s wearing a loose tank top and black, loose pants. Zayn still can’t see the man’s face, but he radiates so much electricity that he is almost instantly drawn to him.

He tries to make his way towards the golden lightning bolt, Zayn’s new nickname for him because, seriously, the blond is jumping around so quickly he might be even too fast for the music currently playing. It’s a bit difficult to get to Lightning Bolt, whenever he takes a couple of steps in his direction, there’s someone new getting a hold of him and wanting to dance.

It stops being fun around the fifth time it happens, and when he sees Lightning Bolt slowly walking away towards the bar, Zayn thinks, _fuck it,_ moves away from the tall, muscled brunet that’s holding onto his hips, and makes his way towards the blonde without stopping for anyone.

Lightning Bolt is suddenly just in front of him, and Zayn collects himself, trying to look the coolest as possible even though please, Zayn would look cool even dressed as a banana. He breathes as he puts both hands around Lightning Bolt’s waist, the man doesn’t even flinch a little as he sways his hips along with Zayn’s and the music. It’s really hot and this is the reason why Zayn comes to the Pink Sunglasses, to escape even if just for a few hours his horrid life, and dance with some careless stranger. Zayn suddenly has the urge to face Lightning Bolt, because well, they’re dancing and he feels some strange chemistry between them but he still hasn’t seen his face. So he turns him around.

Zayn is met (baffled, dazzled, perplexed, astounded) by blue, blue eyes, a cute nose, and a _boy_ , not a man, but a boy. Under the colorful lights and the smell of sweat, this boy might be the prettiest boy he’s ever seen in Manchester.

Zayn knows he is not showing a surprised and astounded look on his face, he is too careful with that, it’s even an automatic defense mechanism. He never shows any emotion on his face unless he does it on purpose or when he’s with Louis or Harry. Still, if Zayn weren’t able to do that, he is sure he would be mirroring Lightning Bolt’s face right now.

The blond (pretty, pretty) is looking at Zayn surprised. He looks like he might speak, say something, and Zayn inexplicably wants him to do so, but he doesn’t. He looks as if he’s waiting for something, maybe for Zayn to speak or something, but Zayn…well, what is he supposed to say when Lightning seems so expectant? Lightning Bolt still doesn’t speak.  Instead, he just coughs, blushes and looks to his left were a soft looking brunet is dancing a bit awkwardly.

“Liam, let’s go.” he tugs at the other boy’s arm. Liam, Zayn supposes, looks confused but doesn’t utter a word and just nods. Just as they’re about to leave, Liam looks at him too. His confusion seems to grow even more and Zayn gets a feeling that he’s missing something the other two boys know.

Shit, maybe they know who he is. Maybe they know he’s son of Yaser Malik, that rich entrepreneur. But why would the son of Yaser Malik be on a gay club? Zayn feels like he’s going to throw up.

He knows he’s not that easily recognizable, but he knows the average Manchester people have heard of him, or well, of his father, at least. He’s stretching the realms of possibility, but he can’t risk this getting out on the papers. He thinks of going after Lightning Bolt and his friend, Liam, but they’re nowhere to be seen. They probably left.

Suddenly, Zayn feels a bit sick.

He needs a drink.

x

The very next day, Zayn wakes up with a headache and _what the fuck, he didn’t even drink that much yesterday_!

His school day goes mostly unperturbed, he spends it with Louis and Harry (he doesn’t really want to talk to another fake asshole, at least for today) and they tell him _all about_ yesterday’s party. They tell him how everyone was so fucking wasted and high, and how Harry had ended up getting laid twice in one night by different girls and how Louis had won a shotgun contest and _there was a freaking ice luge, Zayn!_   It sounds nice enough, but it’s still the same thing that happens in every party. Zayn wants to tell his friends about _his_ night, except he can’t.

He wants to tell them about the really good-looking bartender, and all the hot lads he had seen there, and most of all, he wants to tell them about Lightning Bolt and Liam, how terrified he is they might out him to the papers and how his father will react. He wants to tell them about how pretty Lightning Bolt is, and he wants to tell them how _gay_ he is. But Zayn’s scared, not of how Louis and Harry will react, he’s pretty sure they won’t stop being his friend, maybe they’ll get a bit more guarded, but they wouldn’t stop _talking_ to him. He isn’t scared of that, he’s just scared of people knowing the truth, a truth sometimes scares even Zayn.

He really doesn’t concentrate all day, laughs half heartedly at all of Louis’ jokes and barely touches his lunch. He supposes he should forget it about it, about Liam and Lightning Bolt (Zayn wants to stop calling him Lightning Bolt, but then he won’t have a name to call the boy except for _blond_ , and he doesn’t really like that), but he can’t. It’s frustrating.

Harry might have noticed something was up with him during their English class (it was just the two of them, Louis had Maths that hour) and he voiced his question, but Zayn had brushed it off immediately with a nudge and a lazy smile.

And Zayn thinks everything could have been forgotten except—

Except, as he walks alone towards the holy exit of the building, he catches, at the last moment, a boy with golden hair. Or something like that, because now that Zayn can see it under the annoyingly bright light of the school building , it’s more than obvious that it’s bleached. Still, it’s really pretty.

His gaze now follows the taller boy next to Lightning Bolt, it’s Liam!

Zayn feels queasy, and he wants to vomit. Now more than ever, he wishes Louis or Harry were here.

Wait, no, no, what if the boys spot him and yell that he’s gay? No, no!

This wasn’t supposed to happen! Never in a million years would Zayn’ve guessed the strange boys attended his fucking posh school. Simply because no one, _no one_ is gay in that school. He wants to leave, he wants to go home and crawl under his giant covers and never come out, but he knows he can’t. Zayn know this is his chance to try and bribe the boys with something, anything. They’re alone, and this is perfect, he’ll just have to stop all the nerves flying inside of him.

He steps forward slowly, and just like last night, both boys have their backs turned to him. Just like last night, except now they’re under white clinical ones instead of colorful moving ones, except that now they’re alone in the hallway instead of being pressed together by many wet bodies. Except that now they were in broad daylight instead of having the night’s embrace to help them hide.

He still urges forward.

“Hey, can I talk to you?” he touches the blonde’s shoulder and both boys turn to face him. He hopes he still has his poker face on.

“Um, to both of you.” He wants it to come out like a command, but it doesn’t. Zayn’s not sure if it’s his voice turning its metaphorical back to him or if it’s the feeling that he doesn’t want to be rude to neither Lightning Bolt nor Liam.

“Sure.” Liam flushes red and Lightning silently agrees. Both boys have their backpacks on their backs, they were leaving too.

“You were there yesterday.” Zayn starts, and he keeps it as ambiguously as he can. He doesn’t think he’ll forget how Lightning looks or how Liam’s eyes resemble a puppy’s, he knows they’re the boys at the Pink Sunglasses last night, but he needs to know if _they_ remember him.

“You were dancing.” Lightning replies, Zayn notices he’s stepping on Liam’s foot.

And then it hits him that these boys that attend his school know his biggest secret and Zayn is about a second from panicking and punching them in the face and paying someone to fly them to Canada or somewhere far away.

“We won’t…we won’t tell anyone. I mean, assuming you’re gay and all that. Oh, I wasn’t supposed to say that!” Liam says and slowly backs away, leaving a frightened Niall in front of Zayn, “Uh, please, don’t hit me…”

_We won’t tell anyone. We won’t tell anyone. We won’t tell anyone._

“You won’t tell anyone? What? What do you want?”         

“Well, not if you don’t want to…” adds Lightning Bolt and fuck that name.

“What’s your name?” he asks the blond, and the fact that they won’t tell anyone hasn’t really sunk in.

“Horan. Niall Horan.” Liam snorts, or maybe he’s just trying not to laugh, Zayn is not sure.

 “And you’re Liam.” Zayn adds eyeing the brown haired boy.

“He knows our name, Ni.” Liam whispers to Niall, he probably thinks Zayn won’t hear them but he does.

“And you’re Zayn.” Niall replies easily. “You won’t hit us, right?”

“How do you know my name?” Zayn asks instead, and it’s stupid, he knows, because everyone in their school knows who Zayn Malik is, or well, they think they do at least.

Both Liam and Niall roll their eyes, even though Liam is still cowering behind Niall.

“Ok, wrong question, but…are you sure you won’t tell anyone?” he is showing too much vulnerability, he’s being too soft, too questioning and showing them he’s afraid. But he can’t quite act differently because he _is_ scared, he’s being intimidated by these two boys whom he had never seen in his life, but apparently _they_ had seen him.

“Yeah, man. I mean, it’s not our thing to tell. We know how this is.” Niall smiles and he seems to understand. Both of them.

And of course, how could they not? Zayn suddenly doesn’t feel so alone anymore.

“Well, we better be off.” Niall says a bit more loudly, “Got a bus to catch.” Liam laughs, as if it’s a small secret between the two of them.

“See you around, Zayn.” Liam adds as they both turn towards the door and start talking with each other, as if the conversation they just had, wasn’t of importance, was just an everyday occurrence.

He stays there even after they leave; he is still wide eyed and confused. And so, so relieved.

x

 

After Zayn’s confrontation with Niall and Liam (if you could call it a confrontation), the boy felt lighter, better even.

There’s a part of him that said the other boys could quickly and efficiently destroy his reputation with just a few words, but there’s a smaller part, way in the back of his head, that said they wouldn’t.

There is no reason to believe them, not when Zayn had been lied to before, not when he barely knows the lads, but. But he does. Zayn trusts them, as fucked up as that is.

Zayn sighs as he connects his iPod to his bedroom speakers, throws himself into bed, and closes his eyes.

These past few months the only time he feels at home in his house is when he’s alone in his room, drowning himself with music. Sometimes he even sings along and his rich velvety voice fills the room, other times, he just listens and gets himself lost in melodies and sung poetry.

Those are the moments when Zayn happily swims in solitude. His sisters know better than to bother him, his mother just doesn’t care, and Zayn simply turns off his cellphone.

Just as Timberlake’s voice engulfs Zayn’s head, he hears heavy footsteps coming from the hallway outside his bedroom.

Zayn panics, he could easily recognize those footsteps anywhere. But what is his father doing here so early?

He stands up quickly to turn off his iPod, but his father is quicker than him.

Suddenly a tall man in a suit, black, black hair, opens the door and stands there glaring at his son.

Yaser man is a man who intimidates; he isn’t particularly strong, nor viscious looking, but his eyes show just how much power he holds.

But Zayn isn’t intimidated by one of the richest men in England, no, he’s intimidated by his f _ather_ , the man who had always wanted to impress since little, but never could. The man who right now scans Zayn’s room with disdainful eyes.

He shakes his head at all of Zayn’s posters and pictures, and the boy makes himself smaller and smaller. His father hasn’t been inside his room in years.

“Just _what_ are you listening to? Turn it off.” Yaser orders.

Zayn quietly takes his iPod from the speakers and silence fills the room. He stands there, waiting for his dad to speak up.

“You know, I had to pay a fair amount of money to a newspaper today. When I say ‘fair’, it means _a lot_.” Yaser walks around the room with slow careful steps, never taking his eyes off Zayn. The teenager doesn’t know why his father is saying this.

“You know why?” his father continues.

Zayn shakes his head, “No.”

Yaser glares at his son. “Because apparently they had pictures of my son getting out of a gay club.”

Zayn stays there speechless—no! He had been very careful this time around! He was!

“What do you have to say about this Zayn? And don’t you dare lie to me, I saw the damn pictures!”

“Father, I didn’t…I didn’t mean to—“

“Didn’t mean to what? Didn’t mean to _fuck_ another man?!”

Zayn stutters, he doesn’t know what to say.

“Bloody hell, couldn’t you just fuck girls instead? At least no one’s surprised about that, no one gives a shit about you being a whore anymore. But a faggot?! You know how much I had to pay for those pictures?! And this isn’t the first time! This little phase of yours is giving me too much trouble!”

 _But it’s not a phase, it’s not a phase. I’m gay, dad, it’s not a phase!_ Zayn wants to scream, but his throat is dry and his tongue stuck.

“This will be the last time this happens, do you hear me Javadd? If something like this happens again, I swear I will disinherit you. I’ll cut you off, and you’ll leave this house.” Yaser yells and leaves as quickly as he came.

Zayn can already feel the tears threatening to fall from his eyes, but he won’t allow himself to cry. Not because of his father.

All the relief he had felt earlier that day quickly vanishes; he is alone.

x

Zayn feels this as sort of déjà vu.

It’s slightly different though. Instead of muscular and angular bodies there are curvy, smaller ones pressing against him, dancing along with the music. There’s a lot less cock and a lot more empty space. He’s not into the music and he’s sweating, but it’s more because of everything he’s doing just not be touched by a hungry girl.

There’s also the fact that there are no Niall and Liam to be seen; instead, there’s Louis and Harry, who are each dancing with a girl on top of them. It’s basically the same thing he was doing two days earlier, but he’s not enjoying this. At all.

He feels suffocated not only by the music, but by the bodies; he wants to go outside, breathe some fresh air and maybe put his headphones on. Zayn’s practically about to do it, but then he feels a strong hold on his arm turning him around.

Warm green eyes meet his, and suddenly Harry is guiding him out of the dance floor. He feels relieved from getting out of there, but it soon turns into dread when he sees where they’re going. Near the alcohol table Louis stands with three girls. They look older and they’re not wearing much clothes either, all three of them are giggling at whatever Louis is saying, and one in particular is hanging from his neck. He knows where this is going and his stomach churns.

“Told you he wouldn’t take long!” Louis laughs and motions for Harry and Zayn to hurry up.

When they get there, one of the girls quickly drapes herself over Harry and the one in the middle stat smirking at him. Zayn can only stare back with a face he knows looks seductive, even if he feels anything but.

“Zayn, this is Jessica. She likes you.” Harry says, and the other girls giggle at that. Louis looks pleased, as if hooking up his friend with a random hot girl is the best thing’s he’s ever done.

Jessica is not bad looking at all. She has long blonde hair, a bit wavy; but it’s a bit long for him to fully like it. She has brown eyes, but they’re not warm enough. And she has long tan legs, but they’re still not long enough. He sighs inwardly, still smirking at Jessica.

Zayn wants to run away, he want to just go and leave Louis and Harry and Jessica there. But then he remembers his father’s words from last night. And he grabs Jessica by her waist.

Louis laughs and Harry winks, “Alright, well, _we_ are going to go upstairs if you don’t mind.”

“We are staying here, thank you.” Louis rolls his eyes, but his lips are soon covered by the girl’s pink ones. It’s turn for Harry to roll his eyes, but he makes his way upstairs, girl in tow.

Zayn knows what comes next.

“Do you want to go upstairs too?” Jessica softly whispers into his ear so close, she leaves it humid with her  breath. Zayn visibly shudders, but Jessica throws her head back and leads him to the stairs. There’s not much he can do anyway.

When they’re in one the many bedrooms on the floor above, and Zayn’s hands roam around soft curves and bare breasts, he wills himself to think about his father’s words. It’ not good, even when he comes, it’s not good at all.

And when Jessica is fast asleep and the music has died down, Zayn puts on his clothes as fast as he can. He feels dirty, he’s supposed to feel good, not dirty. It doesn’t make sense. This time, as he runs through the deserted streets of Manchester, not sure where exactly to go, he allows himself to cry all the tears he’s saved up.

xxx

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yay? I'll be working on the second chappie as fast as I can, but I've already got it planned! Sorry because there wasn't a lot of Larry in this chapter but the next one is harry's and so it will have a lot of it. Title of the chapter by Gods and Monsters by Lana del Rey.


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